


Once Upun A Time

by Sky_Full_of_Dragons



Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Fluff, Humor, M/M, Science
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-12
Updated: 2014-11-12
Packaged: 2018-02-25 03:41:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2607158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sky_Full_of_Dragons/pseuds/Sky_Full_of_Dragons
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A perfect day for science, a perfect evening for romance, and a perfect joke? Newt ponders a coffee shop AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Once Upun A Time

“Quittin' time! Ding! Pencils down, scientists!” 

Newt tossed his pencil into a cracked coffee mug designated for holding pencils and pens, its ability to hold liquids no longer assumed or trusted. The biologist shoved aside his kaiju sample requisition forms and looked over at Hermann expectantly. Hermann caught his gaze and smiled, his pencil joining Newt's in the mug. 

It had been an excellent and productive day. Newt had made contact with a university in Brazil that was more than happy to loan him their hunks of preserved kaiju kidney (or alien equivalent, no one was quite sure) and even were so kind as to throw in a couple vials of kaiju cerebrospinal fluid. Hermann couldn't complain, either - calculations had flowed across Hermann's chalkboards like rushing cascades. The last half hour had simply been copying the blackboard scribbles into notebooks for safekeeping, and even then Hermann was able to solve a couple more quandaries. Work had been downright enjoyable, a day of pure scientific inquiry without the typical barriers to their studies getting in the way. No red tape, dropped phone calls, or uncooperative equipment. Even the coffee in the mess hall had been fresh and hot, a small miracle. And when Newt and Hermann closed up the lab and made their way to dinner, they found the mess hall was offering the Taco Tuesday special, even though technically it was Monday. No one quibbled. Everyone loved Taco Tuesday. 

Both men returned to their shared quarters in high spirits and with energy to burn. They didn't have to be Drift compatible to know what the other was thinking about, or wanted. 

Newt shimmied out of his clothes in what seemed to be one fluid but frantic motion, while Hermann undressed much more slowly, carefully folding each item of clothing and placing it in a tidy pile on a chair. He was halfway through removing his pants when Newt started to lose patience. 

“Why are you folding them? They're just going in the laundry chute.”

Hermann thought on this. “You know, I'm not sure. Force of habit, I suppose.”

“Yeah,” Newt picked at a loose thread on the bedspread. “Yanno what else is a habit? Waiting on you. Not that I don't like a good strip tease,” Newt raised an eyebrow at Hermann, who was dealing with a minor battle between his sense of balance and his sock. “but I'm fit to burst over here and I want you to come with me. In me. That'd be great.”

“A sentimental, if vulgar request...” Hermann carefully stepped out of his underwear and considered whether or not they needed folding as well. Newt decided for him, tossing over the small bottle of lubricant so that Hermann had to drop his shorts in order to catch it. 

“Would you just lube yourself up already? I'm dying!”

“You seem very much alive to me...” Hermann regarded Newt perched on the edge of the bed and trying desperately not to touch himself, drumming the fingers of both hands on the mattress instead. Hermann wondered how Newt had managed to keep on task throughout their workday if he was so excited about after-dinner recreation. 

“Patience is a virtue, Newton...” and Newt began to whine. “But...one not necessary this evening.” Hermann coated the fingers of his right hand and snapped the bottle closed, setting it on the desk for quick access later. “Turn over, would you? Hands and knees.” 

Newt grinned as he rolled over. This was one of his favorite positions, though sometimes a little difficult for Hermann to manage. He must be pain-free tonight, another minor miracle. Hermann rested a hand on Newt's rump and paused for half a moment, which was far too long for Newt. 

“What, stopping to admire the view?” and he wriggled his bottom like a puppy wagging his tail. 

Hermann chuckled. “Well...yes, actually. I quite like your backside.” Deciding he'd teased Newt enough, Hermann trailed a slick finger down Newt's cleft and slowly pushed the digit inside as Newt trembled and groaned with pleasure.

“Ohh yeah, that's great. Tell me what you like. Must be my stunning physique. Rippling glutes? Sharp definition of the iliac crest, perhaps? Manly dimples hinting at immense strength in my -” Newt abandoned the thought as Hermann added a second finger and changed the angle of his thrusting just slightly. He steadied Newt's hip with his other hand as Newt whimpered and tried to jerk his hips backward, pleading for more. 

“I will be honest with you, Newton. Your arse is a marshmallow. A pale expanse of squishy fluff without sculpted anything. Inviting and soft, sometimes lending itself quite well to roasting,” Newt barked with laughter and shifted from his hands to his elbows, and Hermann continued. “Though usually very uniform in color and shade.” He kneaded the upturned flesh in time with his thrusts, prompting incoherent begging from the biologist. “Now, come to think of it, why don't you have any tattoos back here? Not that I don't like decorating your backside myself, mind.” He pinched Newt firmly, and Newt squeaked. 

“I...I just...” he looked back, face flushed and brow beaded with sweat. Hermann was well-practiced at disabling Newt's cerebral cortex with a few precise touches, though this rarely gave him any advantage in their daily verbal sparring, unless Newt had happened to misplace his pants. Hermann stilled his motions long enough for Newt's brain cells to wring themselves of excess dopamine. 

“I...” Newt licked his lips. “Well, it's like...I can't show off tattoos on my butt...to...to...the general public I mean. My arms...” and he lifted his forearms in demonstration, kaiju roaring and clawing over his skin. “But what even to put on my butt-cheeks...I'd think another kaiju would be...”

Hermann tilted his head. “...Disrespectful?”

“Silly.” Newt finished. “Although...hey Hermann - why don't we get matching tattoos on our butts?”

Hermann scoffed. “You can't be serious, whatever for?” 

“Well, it's like a commitment thing, right? Some people get ring tattoos and...I mean, we could do that but that's so conventional. It'd be our secret -”

“I really don't think our relationship is a secret from anyone.” Hermann snorted and resumed his thrusting, tired of the conversation and thinking of his own desires, somewhat sidetracked by Newt's sudden introspection. But Newt was not to be deterred.

“Well, of course not, but who are the only people who routinely see our naked backsides? Us, right? Mostly just us. Unless we're in the showers but then it's bad manners, you're not s'posed to look...we could get - Oh!” Newt slapped the mattress with an open palm. “Haha, I've got a great one, are you ready?”

Hermann looked down at himself in exasperation. “Why yes. Yes, I would say I'm quite ready.” A third finger joined the other two inside Newt, which Hermann prayed would get his boyfriend's mind back to the present. “Are you ready for me? I'm quite hoping the answer is yes, because -”

“Nono, dude, not that. I mean yes, ahh! Whoa, that's great, please just - I'm ready for your cock, of course, yes please! But first are you ready for my epiphany?”

“What? Alright, alright, fine - what has your clever brain come up with at this, a most introspective moment?”

Newt shuddered, he was already so very close, but also laughed at his own brilliance. “We...we could get matching constellation tattoos, okay? Because astronomy is awesome and we both love stargazing. So okay, and then...Then! When the kaiju war is over, and it will be, thanks to us geniuses, we'll retire with our starry tattoos and open a coffee shop together.”

“A...a coffee shop.” And Hermann's jaw dropped in realization. “Newton, no.” He grabbed for the bottle and poured a generous amount of lube into his hand, quickly slicking up his cock without pausing to warm the slippery gel. He would have to be quick.

“Newton, yes!” Newt grinned at him over his shoulder and wriggled his backside once more. “And do you know what we can call it?”

“You...no. No!” Hermann wasted no time in lining up his cock with Newt's hole, fears confirmed unless he could quickly derail the conversation. “Newton Geizler I'm warning you...” And he pressed in, swiftly in desperation, to the hilt. “Do. Not. Finish. Your-”

Newt keened in ecstasy as he was suddenly filled, arching his back and clawing at the sheets. He inhaled sharply, though, and Hermann knew all was lost as Newt dropped his head and softly giggled. “We could call it 'Starbutts'.”

It wasn't that the Thinking Couch in the lab was uncomfortable, Newt thought, wrapping the fleece Godzilla throw around himself and flopping over to face the couch cushions. It was just the principle of the thing. Doctor Hermann Gotlieb, Newt decided, just had a terrible and unrefined sense of humor.


End file.
